Love Is Blind
by MissGriss and KMnO4
Summary: A costume ball, a meddlesome Catherine and an embarassing case of mistaken indentites...
1. Chapter One

****

Disclaimer- We own nada! But we blissfully borrow the characters from CBS and let them out to frolic every once in a while…

Summary- Catherine meddles like never before and a case of mistaken identities brings about embarrassing consequences for our favourite investigators GSR

A/N- This is our first joint fic and KMnO4's first attempt at humour! Please review and tell us what you think.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Through half-opened eyes Catherine Willows surveyed the scene before her. Five moving targets and one way to bring them all down. Rising up from the dilapidated couch in the corner of the break room she confidently made her way towards the kitchen units.

'Coffee.' She shouted loudly in a sing song voice.

Mary Poppins had nothing on this actress. She would be persuasive. She would be cunning and -if push came to shove- downright ruthless in order to achieve the results she desired. Things had been bumbling along in the same old way for too long and if there was one thing she hated it was monotony.

'Please form an orderly queue.' She said mockingly as Warrick stepped in front of a very unamused Nicholas Stokes.

Now that she was sure she held their full attention it was time to move in for the kill. Catherine held a steaming hot coffee pot in one hand and a bright red flyer in the other. Her sleepy eyed team mates looked longingly at the bubbling liquid. _First things first. _She began to read aloud.

'The 12th annual law enforcement ball will be held this Saturday night in the grand suite of the Bellagio hotel. All affiliated employees will be warmly received. Dress this year will no longer be black tie, but fancy. Prizes will of course be available for the most authentic portrayals. Tickets are available online at or from the main reception desk. We look forward to seeing you.'

An angry hush fell across the room. Catherine flashed them all a brief grin before slowly pouring coffee into each of their cups. She tried her best to ignore their questioning glances and returned her flyer to the little black purse she had placed beside the previously abandoned couch.

Everyone was sat around the small circular table. They wordlessly sipped at their hot caffinated drinks and exchanged looks of extreme scepticism. All shared one universal thought- Catherine was up to something. But what would it be this time?

'I thought these would come in handy.' She cooed innocently, depositing five lime green tickets onto the smooth grey surface. 'And before anyone says anything. I already swapped the whole team with Ecklie's day shift on Saturday… AND I spent Lindsey's doll house money on this completely non-refundable treat for us all.'

Damn. She was good. In less than five seconds, she had shot every last one of them down. Grissom, Sara, Nick, Warrick and Greg. Nobody had a leg left to stand on. Or enough of the necessary male genitalia to refuse.

Now that every chance of a counterattack had been thwarted, team Willows celebrated victory. All that her colleagues could do was accept the inevitable that -just like Cinderella- they would be going to the ball. She had apparently thought of everything but still Warrick wondered to what extent her almost manic preparation actually went.

'So do you have our costumes picked out too?' He asked cautiously.

'Now that's something I thought you could handle yourselves.' Catherine replied as a smug grin distorted her features.

'I suggest you go to the Costume Warehouse, near western LVU, for all your dressing up needs. Although… I suspect some of you already have costumes hanging in your closets.'

All heads turned towards the sheepish looking lab tech at the end of the table. Greg could do nothing to suppress the wide grin which spread itself across his face, 'I for one think it will be fun. An evening of witty repartee accompanied by dancing, I could not imagine anything better.'

The groans coming from the other CSI's did little to dampen Greg's spirits.

'We could all benefit from a little out of hours socialising.' He hinted raising his eyebrows suggestively at one very unimpressed Sara Sidle.

'Tell me Greggo, will your costume consist of any liquid latex?' She inquired sarcastically causing Nick and Warrick to stifle their laughter.

He nonchalantly took a sip of his coffee. 'Is that a request?'

The change of atmosphere was a welcome surprise to Catherine. All it had taken was a little scheming and she had them right where she wanted them.

But one person had not yet submitted to the allure of light hearted costume banter.

'Any ideas for a costume Gil?' She said loudly, intent on making him fully aware that his position of supervisor did not render him exempt from her plans.

'No, not yet.' Grissom replied. He held her gaze in a sly attempt at unsettling her. But of course- the woman was unshakable.

'I already know what I'm going as.' Nick exclaimed smiling. 'I'm gonna to be a cowboy baby!'

'That's cute Nick.' Sara countered. 'Now if Warrick goes as a construction worker, Greg as an Indian and Brass as a cop, you've got yourselves a Village People reunion.'

'Wasn't there a biker as well?' Catherine added teasingly. 'Hey Gil, that's what you could go as.'

But now image's of leather and lace flooded Sara's mind putting an end to her sadistic enjoyment and the back of Grissom's neck could also be seen to redden slightly. _Perfect. _Catherine had half way won the war against tedium and now a whole new battle had begun.

TBC


	2. Chapter Two

'It's fun to stay at the YMCA…' Nick sung gleefully as he twirled in front of his large mirror.

He paused momentarily to laugh at his reflection. Sara had been right. His outfit was one hundred percent corny but he couldn't care less. He had spent the last twenty minutes polishing his boots to perfection and the shine on them could be seen a mile away.

Nick was proud of his Texan roots and unbeknown to the others he actually did already have this costume tucked away in the dark recesses of his closet. His eyes never leaving the glass, he placed two toy pistols into each pocket of his belt and slightly adjusted his brown cowboy hat.

'Howdy there little darlin'.' He said aloud using a heavier version of his native accent.

'Pray for mercy.' Warrick said grinning manically.

He swished his black cape in front of his face for dramatic effect. He was most definitely feeling this costume. The idea had come from one of the kids at the local community centre where he regularly volunteered. It had only taken one question to get them shouting a variety of interesting suggestions.

'Who's the coolest person in the world?' Warrick asked the eager little faces sitting before him.

After dismissing the most ridiculous suggestions such as Barney and Buffy the Vampire slayer. He settled on a toss up between a few good movie heroes. In the end it was the masked crusader for justice with the Latino edge who most excited his imagination. So tonight he would unleash the sultry and seductive charms of Zorro on the unwitting female population.

'Buenos tardis, senorita.' He softly purred.

'And hand to hand is holy palmers kiss.' Sara voiced while sighing gently.

She wondered why she bothered at all. The only entertainment that night would come from the infantile costume selections of her male workmates- bar one of course. _What would Grissom really wear? _ Sara had chosen her own costume in the hopes that it was so unoriginal that nobody else would have considered it.

But still it was strange to be dressed this way. Suddenly so very feminine. The long gown had a corset beneath it which was fitted so tightly that it made talking -and moreover breathing- very difficult. It was a dark burgundy colour which she had set off with some plum lipstick Catherine had bought her for Christmas, knowing full well she'd probably never wear it. _Well jokes on you Willows. _Sara thought momentarily until she remembered that she was one standing there with the wedding style hairdo and black ballet slippers.

'Never was there a story of more woe, than that of Juliet and her poor Romeo.' She whispered in defeat.

'I am Catwoman…hear me roar. Meow.' Catherine swiped playfully at the mirror with her false claws on display.

She couldn't have picked a more suitable costume considering that tonight she would have to be sly, manipulative and decidedly sneaky if she was to succeed in her plans.

She studied the black, all in one suit she wore. It was a little risqué for the ball, she thought, but nothing compared to what she used to wear in her dancing days. As she flicked her tail from side to side she decided the costume was well worth it, if only to see her colleagues' reactions. And it did make her feel damn sexy.

After placing the feline ears atop her head, she used one of Lindsey's face paints to apply her whiskers.

__

I just may need to use all of my nine lives tonight if my plans go wrong. She mused as she practiced her sweetest grin and put the finishing touches to the lines on her face.

'To die for...' She exclaimed purring satisfactorily.

'Watch out ladies, here comes the greatest lover of them all.' Greg crooned as he swaggered around his apartment dressed as the man he admired most of all.

There wasn't a trace of liquid latex in sight and he wasn't wearing the signature clothing of some tragic rock star from years gone by. No, Greg had decided that for one night only, the ladies of Las Vegas would be treated to the devastating charms of Casanova himself.

There had been no thought required when Catherine had told them about the costume party. He knew immediately that Casanova was the way to go seeing as he shared so many personality traits with the famous Italian lover. The charisma, the wit, the intelligence-all were features Greg identified with.

He buttoned up his powder blue waistcoat before straightening the high collar of his shirt. The excess of frills spilling down the front of his shirt were bound to get a few laughs from the likes of Nick and Warrick, but he didn't care. It wouldn't be the first time they'd shared a joke at his expense.

He completed the look with a tri corner hat which he theatrically flipped onto his head before taking one last look in the mirror.

'Who could resist this?' He asked his reflection, who simply responded with a proud shrug.

'But, soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east and Juliet is the sun.' Grissom began to recite while fixing a glace at his ensemble.

__

How do I get myself into these situations? He wondered glancing uncomfortably at his recently rented wear. He thought that going as a great literary character was an excellent idea until he actually put the costume on.

Standing in all its historic glory, he realized how foolish he looked and more to the point, felt. And he knew he would likely stand out against all the costumes from countless TV shows he'd never even heard of.

He cast a critical eye over his extravagant shirt, knowing it was too late to tell Catherine he couldn't make it. He would have to brave the onslaught of questions about his identity that he was bound to be asked.

The only detail of his costume that he was fond of was the deep red waistcoat that reminded him of the sunrise. He had been compelled to select it, despite the array of colours on offer, for its significance to the story.

'Alas.'He spoke wistfully. 'I love for sure, my mind is set. But I don't have my Juliet.'

****

TBC


	3. Chapter Three

Sara blew out her breath impatiently and surveyed the crowded dance floor. Through the haze of dim lighting she could faintly make out the gyrating figures of Warrick and Nick each with their respectively bemused dance partners.

Turning away from their bad reproduction of the Bee Gees Night Fever routine, she headed for her only sanctuary in a world gone mad. Busty damsels frivolously cohorted in darkened corners with faux fur adorned Tarzans.

The bar was definitely calling to her as only large amounts of swiftly ingested alcoholic beverages could make this grotesque picture anything resembling pretty. Hoisting the heavy skirt of her gown she arranged herself on the nearest bar stool.

After ordering two shots of tequila and a beer she unconsciously began to scan the crowd. Catherine had assumed her long lost position of private dancer for one lucky officer on the secluded stairwell.

She had winked knowingly at Sara as she passed them making magic on her way to the rest room. Her partner for the evening Deputy Dan was fittingly dressed as an overgrown boxer dog. Catherine considered it fate and purred delightedly.

Though Sara's night had not been without the opportunity of a few conquests. She soon became bored of the steady stream of brutish looking rookie's that strolled possessively up to her and began listing of their astounding bedroom abilities.

But it had helped her perfect annoyed eyebrow raising to a fine art. Something she would happily try out on Greg next time he made an amusing but unwelcome attempt at securing her romantic interest.

Sara suddenly remembered that inspite of having seen the cowboy, Zorro and the giant kitty Catherine, she had yet to glimpse the two most exasperating men in her life. _Where on earth were Greg and Grissom? _She pondered this thought while ignoring the latest in her unrelenting line of painfully optimistic suitors.

'One tequila, two tequila, three tequila… more!' Sara shouted abruptly at the barman intent on quelling her mounting annoyance.

Officer Davies finally got the message and finishing his sentence with a cocky grin as he stalked away. She really didn't think she could take it much longer. The lame disco music and the dodgy outfits weren't as funny as they were depressing.

'Is this seat taken my lady?' Sara heard a familiar lab technical simper into her ear.

She twisted carefully on her stall, afraid that if she moved too quickly, her ass would hit the deck. The copious amounts of alcohol were seriously beginning to take effect and she realized, too late, that being seen drunk at a work party was not the wisest of ideas.

__

What if Grissom finds out? Was the question that occupied her thoughts until she remembered why she was shifting position- Greg was waiting for her in a stalker like fashion.

Her clouded mind decided that it would be best to hide her intoxication. But that was proving very difficult considering the length of her skirt would make manoeuvring perilous even when sober.

The concentration she put in to the simple task of moving was futile. Upon coming face to face with Greg, she caught her foot on the stall and tumbled into him. Her survival instincts meant she clung onto him in an embrace he happily returned.

'Good Evening Gregory.' She greeted with a straight face.

He was pleased to see his Casanova attitude was working already. 'Hello my fair maiden, you are looking breathtaking tonight.'

'Care to dance?' He added casually.

It was now that she demonstrated her newly acquired eyebrow raising excellence as she pushed herself from his body.

'Easy Greggo, I wouldn't want you to start something you're too afraid to finish.' She teased and her tone reinforced the flirtatious nature of her words. Greg was stunned.

Before he could reply, she turned and signalled to the barman to get her another two shots, one of which she immediately knocked back. And Greg understood why she wasn't, as usual, immediately repelling his advances.

'Sara, are you getting drunk?' He asked with slight amusement. He had never imagined her to be a big drinker.

'No.' She replied before adding with a smirk, 'I already am.' Now the other shot began its speedy descent down Sara's throat as she got up. She suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to dance like crazy so took Greg up on his offer.

She grabbed him by the ruffles on his shirt, led him to the dance floor and then looked him up and down. 'Who are you supposed to be anyway?'

'Italy's answer to Hugh Hefner.' He declared.

She eyed him blankly, though her glazed expression was mostly down to the alcohol in her system.

'Casanova.' He clarified.

Sara allowed her laughter free reign after that revelation. When she calmed down Greg was unimpressed.

'Well…' She started. 'If I'm going to be persuaded that you're the greatest lover that ever lived, I need to see some of your moves.' She challenged and noticed his over exuberant grin. She quickly completed her thought. '…On the dance floor Greg. Nowhere else!'

They took up residence next to Nick and Warrick. Sara figured that they could protect her from Greg if need be. They were equipped for the situation as Warrick kept swishing his fake sabre around and Nick was flashing his pistols at anyone who passed by.

From her position on the stairs, Catherine watched keenly. She knew that despite their initial protests her colleagues would have fun once in the party atmosphere. There was a significant figure missing from the picture though, she noted, but one last thorough scan of the room found him.

She was shocked to see Grissom had made the effort to dress up. His choice of clothing was very traditional and that wasn't surprising to Catherine. He was hidden beneath a large hat which amused her. He could even find a way to deflect attention away from himself when dressed in such an eye catching manner.

Whispered something undoubtedly seductive to Deputy Dan who took his cue to leave, she slinked over to the lonesome Grissom.


	4. Chapter Four

'Hi, there stranger,' Catherine teased. 'You're looking mighty fine tonight. Very rustic, like a renaissance man.'

Grissom shot her a withering looking of disgust.

'Tough crowd,' she exclaimed. 'Why so glum? I'm sure you didn't get all dressed up -and let me spend all that money on tickets- to come here stand around looking like a man who just discovered his first murder victim.'

He frown grew.

'Geez, relax,' Catherine said blowing out her breath in exasperation. 'Actually, you'll be happy to know someone's been looking for you. A certain brunette…'

Grissom's interest piqued.

'Ah, so now you're with me,' she grinned. 'Well I'll give you a clue. They're not from Texas, they're not African-American, they don't have bad highlights and they're not a cop. Does that narrow it down for you?'

He started to move away from her in annoyance.

'Ok, I can see you're in no mood for jokes,' Catherine sighed. 'I think Sara said something about going out onto the balcony at midnight. Maybe she's hoping someone special will join her there?'

Grissom continued to leave but there was now a tiny smirk of amusement adorning his face. _Perhaps tonight wouldn't be such a tragedy after all…_

Sara was bored and mildly disorientated. Greg had long ago proved himself to be the most exuberant dancer ever if not the most graceful. He spun so much it made her dizzy just looking at him. Mind you the vast quantities of alcohol she had previously consumed didn't seem to help matters.

'Sidle!' She heard a stern voice in her ear. 'Mom?'

'Close enough,' the blurred figure barked out. 'It's Catherine. You better come with me. You look like you could use some fresh air.'

'Hey!' Greg pitifully protested. 'You're stealing my dance partner!'

'Easy Greggo,' Catherine remarked pulling Sara away from him across the bustling dance floor. 'We're just stepping out to the balcony for a second. She'll be back.'

'That's what they all say,' he voice dejectedly before shrugging off his troubles and turning back to his vibrant attempt at "doing the hustle".

As 'Juliet' and 'Catwoman' stepped out onto the empty balcony the light breeze hit them. It was welcome relief to Sara's flushed complexion and she took in large gasps of air to help with her steadily increasing light-headedness.

She approached the balcony ledge and lent on the cool stone whilst letting out an overwhelmed sigh.

'Not having a good time?' Catherine questioned knowingly as she took a place next to Sara. 'Perhaps it's because you're waiting for someone in particular to arrive'

Sara turned away from the dazzling lights of Vegas to address her annoyingly smug colleague. She squinted at her and hissed 'I'm not waiting for anyone.'

'So I watched you turn down a long line of hotties because, what, they were too good looking?'

Sara shrugged unenthusiastically.

'You could have at least pointed them in my direction.' Catherine sulked before continuing. 'You know, I just saw Grissom arrive.'

'Oh yeah? What was he wearing?' Despite Sara's attempt, the blasé act didn't fool Catherine.

'I guess you'll have to wait and see. He said he wanted to speak to you out here.' Catherine allowed Sara time to process this information and watched as she struggled with her thoughts.

'I can't talk to him like this.'

'Maybe he won't notice you're drunk.' _And maybe he'll learn to fly as well. _She added mentally.__

'I'm not drunk.' Sara replied vehemently as Catherine stared at her unconvinced. 'WhatI meant is I can't talk to him when I'm wearing something even medieval Barbie would turn down.'

'You look fine, in fact, it's very appropriate so don't worry. You, the balcony, Grissom…'

She trailed off as all the pieces of her plan fell nicely into place. She couldn't help but commend herself inwardly.

'Now you stay put and wait for your Romeo. He'll be here at the stroke of midnight.'

Sara murmured her acknowledgement as Catherine returned to the dance floor.

She discovered the party had been eventful in her absence when she found Warrick and Nick dancing around a sheepish looking Greg. He had been tied up with Nick's lasso and they were tormenting him with their toy weapons.

Deciding to bypass that scene, she located Grissom to tell him Sara was waiting, and continued on to find her deputy on a leash. As far as she was concerned, her work here was done. Grissom and Sara would acknowledge their feelings for one another on the balcony and all would be right with the world.

Grissom looked up at the clock, it was two minutes until his midnight rendezvous. He began the short journey to the balcony door, becoming more tense with each step.

'Gil'

His motion was halted as someone grabbed his arm. He turned to find a patch wearing, parrot wielding, sword bearing Jim Brass.

'Jim, you're a pirate.' Grissom voiced disbelievingly.

'And that's why you're the C.S.I.' He chuckled back. 'I know it's unoriginal, but it was either this or come as a teletubby. And I couldn't decide between being the yellow one or the purple one.'

'Tele-what?' Grissom asked totally bemused and Jim waved away his comment.

'Never mind. Who are you supposed to be?'

Greg was finally let go from his rope confines after Nick and Warrick got bored with their childish game. Half the fun had been listening to Greg plead with them to be freed but once he gave up, so did they.

So instead, they now set their sights on Hodges. The lab tech, everyone loved to hate, had been cowering in the corner all night and they decided it was about time he joined in with the fun.

Greg wandered away from the playground in search of Sara. She had been gone a while and he wanted his dance partner back. He followed the trail to the balcony, hearing a girlish yelp behind him. When he rotated he sniggered at the scene he saw. Hodges was tied up and powerless at the hands of Zorro and the demented cowboy.

Greg continued toward the balcony door, passing Brass and Grissom on the way. He overheard his boss explaining about the Capulets and Montagues to Jim the pirate in a frustrated tone. Neither noticed his presence as he pushed his way onto the balcony.

****

TBC


	5. Chapter Five

Sara heard the sound of heavy footsteps coming from behind her. It was clear that she was no longer the sole occupant of the balcony. A little flutter of excitement sprung up inside of her chest but she passed it off a symptom of intoxication.

"Don't speak," she slurred. "Let me say what I gotta say to you."

Taking a deep breath she turned around to face him. The moonlight glinting off the points of his hat momentarily blinding her.

"We aren't so different you and I," she began. " Sure, I say potato and you say starchy harvested vegetable, but that's just minor details."

"Ok…" he replied.

"I thought I said no talking!" Sara drunkenly reprimanded. "Just be a good boy and listen to me."

She flashed him a sloppy grin.

"What I'm trying to say is," she said pausing long enough to steady herself. "I don't care about all the stuff that's wrong about us. I only care about what's right."

"Sara-" he bravely interjected. "I don't know what you're talking about."

She threw her hands up in disgust.

"That's so typical!" Sara hissed. "Play dumb, just like you always do. For a Professor you are pretty damn slow sometimes. Well let me spell it out for you I-L-U-B-Y-O-U."

"You lub me?" he questioned. "You really lub me?"

"Yes," she answered not noticing the mocking tone of his voice or her gross spelling error. Sara had been a bright girl but the English language had never been her strong point. Maybe it was a combination of growing up around hippies and Californians.

Her early vocabulary had consisted of two phrases, "Far out!" and "Like yah dude." Neither of which were any use in Vegas unless commenting on Catherine's atrocious parking habits or trying to talk in Sanders speak.

"I think you've passed your limit missy," he teased. "I'm all for fun but whoa nelly! You're trippin' out…"

"Grissom!" she berated angrily. "Quit it with the lingo. You're not down with the peeps so stop trying to be! I want you to be serious with me. I'm telling you how I feel. That I can't stop thinking about you. That I can't forget you. That you're always the first thing on my mind when I wake up and the last thing at night. When you touch me it's too much and I just want to burst into a million pieces but I'm too scared I might get Sidle dust all over your clothes…"

"Sara?" A voice cut in from across the balcony.

"Grissom?" She asked with extreme confusion. "How are you over there and over here- wait! Am I really high?!"

She squinted and cocked her head to the side but the two figures refused to merge into one. Worse still they both began to speak.

"Great minds think alike, eh boss?" Greg disclosed, finally able to find words after the heart wrenching speech he had just heard mumbled by the beautiful brunette. "But I guess the ladies always go for the more distinguished Casanova."

"Actually Sanders," Grissom responded tartly. "I'm Romeo, and I hope you're not trying to suggest that I'm old."

"He's not old!" Sara shouted suddenly, causing them to wonder if terrets was a side effect of prolonged alcohol abuse. "He's lovely! Grissom one and Grissom two. You're both lovely. Stop fighting!"

She promptly went on to collapse against the balcony rail but not before letting out a mournful "Make love, not war" and high above the fallen Juliet a baffled Romeo looked on…

But unlike the popular tale of love and destruction Casanova took the place of the jolly Friar Laurence and he was soon joined by the not so merry band of Cat woman, Zorro, the Texan Cowboy and the parrot wielding Pirate.

They all gazed open mouthed at the prone form of the emotionally spent Juliet. No-one was really sure what was going on except that the real party was evidently out on the balcony.

Catherine knew she would find Grissom and Sara out there, but didn't expect Greg to be a part of this abridged version of Shakespeare's finest.

'What's going on?' Brass attempted seriously when he saw Sara, but the parrot on his shoulder only elicited giggles from the rest of the team.

'I am going to have so much fun with this tomorrow.' Greg piped up and drew the attention of a very intrigued Nick and Warrick.

Catherine stopped him before he could tell them anymore. 'Greg shouldn't you be in there bustin' a groove?' Her accusatory tone was accompanied by a violent pointed finger and proved more than enough to scare Greg into silence.

He whimpered in defeat, he wasn't going to argue with a woman who had nails so long and sharp it looked like she had rented Freddie Krueger's glove for the night.

Sara chose this moment to raise her head towards the festivity that was presently keeping her from dreaming the night away. The addition of several new faces puzzled her momentarily until she realized who they were and why they must be all together.

'Oh hey guys.' She garbled as she stood slowly. 'Have we got a new case?' Everyone exchanged amused glances as Sara spoke. 'I'll get my kit.'

They watched as she moved away from the balcony railing, lifted her dress awkwardly, took a few steps and then fell into what she thought was the wall.

Grissom caught her mid fall and struggled to keep her up.

'How drunk is she?' Warrick asked concerned.

'Too drunk to remember her name, I'd bet.' Nick offered and the others nodded their agreement.

'I know my name!' Came a muffled response against Grissom's chest who released her momentarily and she turned to face the crowd. 'My name is Sara Sidle, S-A-R-A-S-I-D-L-E.'

Greg sighed. 'She's spelling again, that's definitely not a good sign.'

Sara gave him her best glare as she continued to reel off information about herself.

'I'm 32 years old, my birthday is September 16th and I live at…er… I live at…oh crap!'

'I think someone needs to take this damsel home before she gets in any more distress. Brass suggested sagely. 'I'd do it but I didn't drive here tonight.'

He turned his attention to Grissom, thinking he would understand that the suggestion was meant for him. He may have had a patch over one eye but he could see the situation very clearly and he knew exactly why Sara was drinking.

Talk of damsels in distress, reminded Nick that Hodges was still tied to a radiator in the corner of the ball room. He nudged Warrick and they started to leave. Noticing Catherine's questioning gaze as they moved.

'We told Hodges we'd help him out of a bind.' Nick stated, barely containing his laughter. 'Get home safe Sara… if you can find it.'

Warrick adjusted his mask as he followed Nick back inside and Brass wasn't far behind them. 'See ya later guys.'

Only Sara, Catherine and the two Grissoms remained outside. Sara, having regained some stability, was standing unaided next to her Romeo still trying to remember her address.

Greg filled the uncomfortable silence. 'I'll take her home.'

'You've had too much to drink yourself, I'll take her home.' Grissom asserted authoritatively and Sara looked on amazed at the two similarly dressed men.

'Hey Catherine.' She called in what she thought was a hushed tone. 'It's funny, you wait years for one Grissom to take you home and then two offer to in the same night. Have I won the lottery or what?'

Catherine mouthed the words 'two Grissoms' to Gil and he just rolled his eyes whilst pointing to Greg.

'Come on Greg, time to get back to the dance floor. I'm sure I heard Jackie say something about being able to out-twist you.'

Greg was both shocked and offended at Catherine's suggestion and hurried off in search of his lab tech challenger. Catherine trailed his path but not before sharing some parting words.

'Get her some coffee before she passes out and I'll see you at shift tomorrow.'

Grissom nodded as a spike of apprehension overcame him. It concerned him that Sara currently had no idea where she lived, which left him with no option but to take her back to his place.

****

TBC


	6. Chapter Six

Sara fell into Grissom's townhouse with a heavy thump which was soon accompanied by the thud of him falling neatly on top of her. After the obligatory howls of pain she began to laugh with drunken giggles which sailed across his frigid rooms like a breath of fresh air.

"You're crushing my breasts," she laughed. "I'd like to retain the option of feeding my young thank you very much!"

He frowned with embarrassment and quickly pulled them both up to standing.

"Sara Sidle wants children?" He teased while fumbling for a light switch.

"A million," she said gulping down the stuffy air. "And one, but only with you because that would mean we'd get to have sex at least a million and two times."

Grissom blushed deep crimson.

"Why a million and two?" He questioned while steering her over to his small couch.

"Because," Sara mumbled breathlessly into his ear. "Nobody gets it right the first time."

If he had ever been a praying man now would be the time to get down on his knees and beg for the strength to abstain from looking, from touching, from fondling of any kind. But she was whispering in his ear so enchantingly warm and sweet that he didn't resist when her lips fell on his.

"Hey!" She exclaimed suddenly pulling away. "Where did your twin go? He was cute, we could have made things interesting…"

"Sara," Grissom protested. "Please don't be so foul."

"What?" She said reverting back to the giggles. "I'm naturally curious."

Deciding that the minute Sara Sidle starts discussing threesomes with her boss and the resident lab technician was definitely the time to put her to bed. He hoisted her across his shoulders and struggled to get a firm grip on her beneath the many layers of taffeta and velvet.

"Why Gil," she purred. "You're so strong. I had no idea you'd go all Tarzan. I thought we'd read sonnets and get into character. But I can improvise… does this make me Jane?"

"Sara," Grissom repeated. "Don't be so foul! We're off to the guest room with you and I'll be locking my door tonight so don't even think about it wild woman."

The sound of soft crying came from up above him, directly to the left of his ear. Laying her gently down across the bed he surveyed the mascara run face which seemed to him -still- infinitely beautiful.

"You don't want me," she whispered softly on the end note of a sigh.

"Sara," He pleaded gently as she turned her head and buried it into the pillow beside her.

He watched, not knowing what to do and afraid of what he might. He sat on the bed and let his hand drift towards her cheek, but drew it back at the last moment as if he'd been burned. The internal battle raged on as he tried to find the right thing to say.

"I do want you." He spoke timidly but the words boldly traveled to Sara's nested head. She faced him, her gleaming, wide eyes focused on the vulnerability in his face.

She let his confession hang in the air before unleashing a dazzling smile as she sat up.

"So I want you and you want me." She paused for effect as she looked at Grissom with a twinkle in her eye. "I wonder what we could do about that."

She started to play with the curls at the back of his neck and twisted one around her index finger. He delighted in her soothing touch, even tilting his head into her hand.

This, he could handle, but when Sara's lips began to lay sweet and feather-light kisses onto his ear, it was too much.

"Sara…" He reluctantly gasped out.

"What? You've had to deal with harder puzzles than this before Griss." She replied against his ear, before starting to nip at the lobe.

Grissom pushed her back. "There may be harder puzzles but none of them are this complicated."

"Tell me Grissom, why do you play this game?" She asked rather curtly. "Why do you insist on making things so difficult?"

"I'm not having this conversation with you now, not when you have enough alcohol in your system to open up your own bar."

Sara took a deep breath.

"That's such a great idea, we should open a bar." The unexpected mood change surprised Grissom.

"We could call it 'The Body Farm' and Nick and Warrick could be barmen, complete with Tom Cruise in Cocktail style moves. And Catherine could be the hostess and…"

Her drunken excitement was so contagious Grissom found himself getting drawn into the fantasy. "That sounds like a lot of fun but I can't help but find fault in your plan."

Sara produced a monumental pout which Grissom found so adorable it interrupted his train of thought.

"Who would work on CSI night shift?" He asked as he recovered.

"Well, we would," she announced as he frowned in confusion. "We would be bar owners by day and crime fighters by night. Doing all we can to rid Las Vegas of the scourge of society."

He turned his frown upside down at that revelation. "I wasn't aware you had such an affinity with superheroes." He joked.

Sara's eyes flickered with passion. "Well Dr Grissom, I could be your wonder woman any day."

He didn't doubt that for a minute and it made him uncomfortable. Her close proximity was just as intoxicating as the alcoholic beverages she had been knocking back at the party, and he didn't trust himself alone with her anymore.

Especially when she started to undress.

"What are you doing?" Grissom asked an octave higher than he would have liked.

She huffed noisily as she fought with her dress. "You can't expect me to sleep in this gargantuan mass of material."

"Ok, but wait. I'll go get you a shirt or something."

Grissom hastily left the room of unbounded temptation to search not only for suitable bed wear, but his sanity as well.

Picking out a plain white shirt from his bedroom closet he deposited it in the guest room before leaving to go and get changed himself.

When he returned Sara was curled up on one side of the bed apparently asleep. Her dress was discarded on the floor in a heap and she was enveloped by his shirt. Grissom smiled at the sweetness of it all but as he turned to leave a sluggish voice rang out,

"Sleep with me."

He stopped dead.

"Please Grissom," she slurred drowsily. "Just lie here with me. I promise to behave."

So in spite of every doubt he had and the many alarm bells which sounded in his head, Grissom lay down next to her. The rarely slept in bed felt surprisingly welcoming now that Sara was an occupant. So welcoming in fact, that sleep found him easily for the first time in years.

****

TBC


	7. Chapter Seven

They stumbled out of the house looking far from bright eyed and bushy tailed. Sara slumped down low inside of Grissom's Tahoe and hid behind her sunglasses. He leaned across inspiring a flinch but she soon relaxed after realising he only wanted to turn on the radio.

Great, she thought silently fuming. _Who's the biggest ass in the world? I am, I am!_

Her skin was positively crawling at the prospect of entering the lab. If anyone said anything to her about last night she could possibly die of mortification right there, on the spot. Sara had never contemplated life in a convent before but it was looking mighty attractive right about now.

At least it would keep her away from her three main poisons: alcoholic beverages, costume parties and Grissom.

They had awoken in bed together earlier that day and 'awkward' did not come close to describing how Sara had felt. It was worse than the naked in public dream and her fifth grade bowl cut and her pimply prom date all rolled into one! Things were abysmal and set to get steadily worse.

"Should we talk about this?" Grissom asked earnestly.

"I don't know what 'this' you're referring to," she lied, nervously.

"Come on, Sara," he said softly. "I don't know what got into you last night or me too, for that matter."

"Starts with a 'T' and ends with 'equila' Griss," she returned sarcastically.

Sara wished to be magically transformed into a piece of inconspicuous shrubbery, but the gods weren't listening. In fact Zeus was probably laughing his head off, sharpening his thunderbolts and saying to Hera, 'That Sidle is in for it now darling, watch her squirm. I know what will make it worse, lets get Gil to mention sex!'

"I was very flattered by your offers of multiple sexual encounters," Grissom began.

She flushed bright beetroot and gasped with relief as they pulled into the lab car park. Sara would rather face a hundred drunken fool impressions from Nick and Warrick than spend another second talking to Grissom about the now laughable possibility of their copulation.

Leaping out before he had even finished parking, she ran towards the building at the speed of light and galloped down the hall to the break room. Just as she was about to head inside, memory struck. Sara thought back to the speech she had given Greg and froze with dread.

It was then a squeaky voice simpered into her ear, "Hello fair Juliet, or would you prefer I use your other name? …Little Miss Grissom Loving Sidle Dust."

Damn.

"How is your loverboy this evening?" He continued.

Ignoring this second rate Casanova, Sara poured herself some coffee and hid behind a magazine on the couch. She hoped, more than anything, that she would become invisible, or better yet prove that spontaneous human combustion does actually happen.

Her discomfort grew when Nick appeared. "Hey guys."

Warrick swaggered in behind him, "Well if it isn't Sara Sidle."

"S-A-R-A-S-I-D-L-E. Sara Sidle." Nick announced before looking as pleased as a cowboy who'd just lassoed his first Hodges.

Realising the power of thought was not enough to turn make herself vanish or become a fireball, Sara reluctantly pulled the magazine away from her face.

"Very funny boys. How long have you been practicing that?" She said slightly aggravated.

"Come on Sara, it's not every day you see Shakespeare's Juliet smashed on tequila, falling down on her way to an imaginary crime scene." Nick shrieked.

"It was hilarious," Warrick politely added.

"I'm glad my inebriation caused you enjoyment..."

Sara sensed they were not yet finished with their jokes but they seemed to be manageable.

Until Zeus resumed sharpening those thunderbolts…

"Did Grissom get you home alright? I saw he gave you a ride in today," Greg stated loudly. Afterwards he risked a glance at Sara's rapidly reddening face before grinning at the others. He loved that he knew more than them!

It didn't take a trained investigator to figure out that meant Sara stayed the night at Grissom's house. Nick positively beamed at the revelation and Warrick was excited, but of course, in his own laid back way.

"Sara and Grissom in a tree…" Nick began childishly. "K-I-S-S-I…" He stopped abruptly as all eyes landed on the door, where Catherine and Grissom now stood.

Sara screamed inside, the gods definitely had a vendetta against her today, it was just humiliation after humiliation. If she had the means she would have gone back in time and stopped the whole sorry mess before it had even started. Where the hell was Marty McFly's Delorian when she needed it?

Grissom calmly cleared his throat. "Sara, can I see you in my office for a moment?" He asked efficiently before heading back from whence he came.

Sara thought through her options. She could either go with the very implausible ideas of invisibility, combustion and time travel or she could face Grissom again.

As she stood in the threshold he looked at her through soft eyes. "You left your cell phone in my car during your attempt to break the land speed record."

She approached the desk timidly as he came around to meet her.

"You Ok?" He inquired, touching her shoulder sympathetically.

"Well, I got drunk, said things I probably shouldn't have, came onto my boss and now wish I was anywhere but here. But other than that, everything's peachy."

"It can't be that bad."

"Oh it is," She exaggerated. "Maybe I should just quit-it would be easier than facing them again." She was smiling now, but only at the absurdity of her rationale.

"So you're gonna leave? Then what…run a bar?" He teased gently.

She recognized the words from her drunken rambling, which in turn led to more memories resurfacing. How she'd flirted outrageously with him, talked of threesomes, asked him to sleep with her and also how she had kissed him. Yep, the convent life had definitely come back-a-calling.

"Look Grissom, if I did or said anything that made you feel uncomfortable last night, I'm sorry. It was never my intention to…"

"…to sleep with me?" He interjected bravely as she fought another blushing attack.

"Exactly. I drank…a lot." He nodded a little too much at that for her liking. "Hey, you seemed like you'd had your fair share of alcohol too." She reacted and playfully slapped his arm.

"Actually, I didn't drink last night." He admitted but Sara refused to believe him.

"There's no way you would have let me kiss you if you were sober."

Failing to meet her eye he whispered, "Well, I did." Smiling shyly he closed the gap between them. "I take that to mean you wouldn't kiss me unless you were drunk."

Before she had a chance to respond, Grissom leant forward and gently brushed her lips.

Watching through the glass wall of Grissom's office Catherine Willows smirked.

It might not have gone exactly how she imagined, but her plan had got the desired results.

The previous weeks of tedium and monotony in the break room had now been replaced by excited conversation and teasing!

.... And obviously best of all, Romeo had got his Juliet- minus the unpleasant theatrical suicides.

-----Insert sweet sighs of satisfaction----

The End (Amen!)


End file.
